A Ball of Anxiety

What scares me most?

I can never decide…

Is it that I might not do the things I want to do?

Or is it that I might?

I’ve been a fuzzy ball of anxiety for the past few weeks. When I told my therapist I didn’t need to reschedule my appointment while I was sick, I lied. To be fair, though, I lied to both of us.

When anxiety sucks me under, I tread water and call it “normal” or tell myself I’m handling things. In reality, everything grinds to a halt.

That book I need to edit and publish? Maybe later.

The new workout program I wanted to try? Not today, tomorrow, the next day. Maybe later.

All the ideas to try, the steps to further my goals, the plans to put into place? Er, um, not now.

You want dinner and errands run and laundry washed? It’s all too much right now. I’ll get to it.

If this was a result of being crazy busy with life or having competing priorities, it wouldn’t be so bad. But no, it’s anxiety.

Anxiety stops me cold. Nothing happens. Nothing moves forward.

On the other hand, it’s like moving through quick sand. Every step I take forward to (potentially) get back on track causes me to sink more. I’m mired down by nameless fears and worries I can’t articulate. So I don’t move at all.

I’m frozen in place and filled with guilt about it.

I should do more.

I should do better.

I should move forward.

What is wrong with me?

Rinse and repeat.

When someone kindly tells me they think I’m doing good things, how great I am, or they can’t wait for the next thing I do, I feel like a fraud. If they only knew how much time I waste, how many lies I tell myself, and how hard it is to do even the smallest things.

And everything I don’t do becomes a litany in my head at night. A running commentary of what I can do the next day, why I suck, and how I can “fix” it. No, I don’t know what I’m fixing, either. If I could understand my anxiety, maybe I wouldn’t have it.

Is it that I don’t think I deserve what I think (hope, believe, want) the outcome will be? Is it that it’s easier to dream than it is to do the hard work? Am I still terrified someone is going to call me out as undeserving, a fraud, or wrong?

Do I really feel like I deserve whatever success looks like?

I don’t know.

Right now, I’m stuck. I force myself to inch forward, moment by moment, telling myself even the smallest step in the right direction is better than nothing. But sometimes it’s too exhausting and I go still and numb, unable to make the smallest decision, complete the simplest task, or do anything that needs to get done. And then I berate myself and make false promises about how I’ll be better the next day until I fall asleep.

Rinse and repeat.

Eventually this feeling will pass. Eventually I’ll be back to my energetic self. Until then, I’m a ball of anxiety, gathering dust.